


That's That

by CapConspicuous



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 25 Days of Stuckmas, Bucky/Rumlow is heavily present here, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Violence, I'm so fucking tired yo, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, christmas stucky, more angst than fluff oops, not endgame, protect bucky, stucky angst, stucky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapConspicuous/pseuds/CapConspicuous
Summary: There isn't much to say about Bucky Barnes when he moves into the room next to Steve's. Except maybe Steve can't believe he's finally gotten lucky for once in his life, at least in the hot neighbor department, which had never happened before. Except maybe this might be the best fucking Christmas present ever, thank ol' St. Nick. Except maybe that he looks extremely, (very, alot, muchos) good in his pair of black skinny jeans, and he has very nice lips.  So maybe a lot to say. Oops. But then Bucky's boyfriend, who introduces himself as Brock Rumlow, emerges from behind very-nice-looking Bucky and every single thought preceding that moment just falls out of Steve's head. Just like that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Domestic violence is heavily mentioned! Please note that, thank you! Please ALSO note that, if Bucky is flustered, he is not flirting with Steve! Just gonna put that there, because I actually do NOT condone cheating, so, haha. Bucky is just easily embarrassed.  
> 2/25 Days of Stuckmas  
> Yes, I am a day behind, meaning I'll have to post two things today, OH BOY.
> 
> KUDOS. QUESTIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS.

There isn't much to say about Bucky Barnes when he moves into the room next to Steve's. Except maybe Steve can't believe he's finally gotten lucky for once in his life, at least in the hot neighbor department, which had never happened before. Except maybe this might be the best fucking Christmas present ever, thank ol' St. Nick. Except maybe that he looks extremely, (very, alot, muchos) good in his pair of black skinny jeans, and he has very nice lips. So maybe a lot to say. Oops. 

But then Bucky's boyfriend, who introduces himself as Brock Rumlow, emerges from behind very-nice-looking Bucky and every single thought preceding that moment just falls out of Steve's head. Just like that. 

Look, Steve's not above noticing that Bucky's aesthetically pleasing, but cheating is not condoned (not appreciated, un-allowed, a big no-no), so it's easy to leave it at that. He shakes their hands, welcomes them to the building, makes small-talk, and eventually retreats into his room again. 

That's that.

\---

Except, that's not exactly that. It's neither that nor this, and Steve's not even talking about feelings. 

It's a month of routine, really. The holiday season slips away in to the new year, and Steve misses Christmas carols and reindeer antlers on people's cars, but what can he do? Steve's up at the butt-crack of dawn, headed down to the studio, and he usually runs into Brock on the way out. 

"He's a heavy sleeper," Brock jokes lightly; they step into the elevator, "He won't be up until eleven, at least."

"I wish I could do the same," Steve is easily warmed and the fondness Brock holds for Bucky is tangible, only helping his case. 

It turns out that Brock works as a security guard at the courthouse a couple of blocks over, and he works eight hour shifts, from five to one. Bucky works part-time as a teacher's assistant at the local college, with a degree in electromagnetism (a branch of physics, Steve learns, thanks Google). 

Color Steve impressed. 

So, it's a month of small encounters; every morning, Steve and Brock accompany each other down the elevator, maybe buy each other coffee, and every few days, Steve'll catch Bucky hurrying home, offer him some help carrying his satchel or his backpack or the container he rolls behind him. 

"They're just papers I gotta grade, the occasional group project," Bucky laughs sheepishly, one day after he trips right outside Steve's door and papers scatter everywhere. Thankfully, Bucky's laptop is fine, though Steve swears they kneel there for at least ten minutes, collecting the papers that lay every which way. Half the reason why it takes so long is because Bucky frequently drops the papers he just gathered, he's so embarassed (mortified, abashed, flustered). 

"Thanks for helping, oh my god, I can't even hold all my stuff-" 

"No problem, honestly."

A month of insignificant normality (monotony, uneventfulness) but then, there is one night when Steve pads out of his bedroom in the middle of the night for an impromptu bathroom break, and he swears to God that there's the sound of something crashing, glass shattering, in the next room over. 

He freezes there, feet cold against his bathroom tiles, one hand on the waistband of his sweats and the other on the toilet cover. 

But there is no more sound. Steve doesn't know what he should expect, but there is nothing more to hear, though he stands, petrified, for another five minutes. 

Steve goes back to bed.

The next morning, he meets Brock outside his door, as usual. 

"Can you believe I tripped on my way out of the bedroom last night," Brock laughs, showing Steve the bruise that graces his ankle when Steve asks about the racket. "God, I scared the shit out of myself." 

"And Bucky?" Steve asks out of courtesy, no way Bucky could have been hurt or Brock would have mentioned it. 

"What about Bucky?"

"He's alright?"

"Yeah, of course he's fine. Miffed that I knocked over the bookshelf though." 

And that's that.

\---

Except. It's not really "that's that" so much as it is a seed of doubt. A very tiny seed, that lays dormant for weeks afterwards, but a seed nevertheless.

That very day, Steve is on high alert, especially when he hears footsteps coming back down the hall, around six. It's Bucky, so Steve, ever the sly dog, steps out from his room, cap on his head and hands in his jeans pockets. (In his defense, he needs groceries.)

"Hey, Bucky," he smiles as Bucky approaches, fumbling with his stuff as always. Steve gets his door for him, of course.

Bucky thanks him and asks, "How Clint's dog doing, you mentioned Clint had to leave him at a friend's and Lucky's been pining?" There is nothing remotely off (unsettling, unusual, supicious) about the situation. 

Brock and Bucky all out laugh when Bucky nearly drops the files in his hands when tripping on the bookshelf inside their room, and Steve closes the door, smiling. Their laughs are infectious.

That is definitely that.

\---

Only. That is not _all that_ , not when three weeks after the first resounding incident, which has receded to the back(far back)ground of Steve's mind, he is coming home from late dinner with Tony one night and he hears yelling. It's muffled, sure, but the fact that Steve can hear it at all, from down the hall is a feat. He can't tell who it is, exactly, and- dare he be honest- is so shaken that he scurries past into his own room and slams the door.

Miraculously, the yelling ceases, like the sound of Steve's door has brought them to their senses. It faintly registers that Steve is a six foot three man, he should not be breathing so hard from hearing that kind of squabbling. Trouble in paradise, what makes it his business? 

He swallows hard, brushes his teeth vigorously (anxiously, too-hard, his gums feel raw afterwards) and he crawls between cold sheets. 

There are no more disturbances in the night.

So, that should be that. 

\---

But instead, it isn't exactly that. 

Another month passes, as Steve is used to the time flying past, and he knows that there are bad mornings too. Mornings where there is a tic flying in Brock's jaw, and though he tries at civility, he looks seconds from snapping at Steve's early morning chatter (nervous morning babbling, unintended morning fumbling).

And evenings where Bucky trudges home, not even fighting with his bags, and Steve (who is not accustomed to Bucky's normal footsteps past his door, of course not) notices the slower pace, the quiet. So he takes to going to the gym around six, just so he can open his door as Bucky exits the elevator and help him into his room. 

It's just that. Steve worries.

But the bad days are to be expected- Steve has days when he doesn't get out of bed for hours and hours and watches TV even when there's nothing worth watching on, so he writes it off as some strange anxiety and paranoia.

That is just that.

\---

But that is decidedly not that; it's been more than three months since Brock and Bucky moved in, and it's March now and Steve loves the rain, the unexpected showers, the smell of wet asphalt. 

In the mornings, Steve lets Brock borrow his umbrella while he waits at the bus stop (Steve waits with him, but takes a taxi later) and in the evenings, Steve goes to the gym after he helps Bucky hold his umbrella and his laptop bag as Bucky digs around for his keys which should be in his pocket but _Sorry, Steve, I'm really sorry, I swear I put them in here, Oh- here they are._

Sometimes on the weekends, they go out for drinks, and Steve learns how they met (a motorcycle expo, apparently; Steve's eyes maybe bug for a second, remembering his dad's old Harley-Davidson, the wind, the speed) and how long they've been together (almost three years, Steve gulps his beer too fast on that one, his longest relationship was just shy of two years and Peggy only broke it off because she went overseas for a while, they're still good friends of course) and Steve tells them about his work at the "studio", just small showcasing of art there, some paintings for sale, how Steve works there as both an artist and the noble footsoldier who rearranges the displays every other week or so. 

And he can tell they love each other so much, and his heart eases, why is he so worried anyways? 

But the sound of chairs screeching at night and an unidentifiable voice will suddenly reappear to haunt him and Steve will grip his pillow with a death grip as he waits for it to stop, which it always does. 

The next morning, he doesn't say a thing. Steve doesn't want Brock to think he's assuming things, that would be downright offensive, and anyways Brock is in his regular mood (affable, amicable, laid-back).

Bucky is fine, that evening. He is, he is, _no, Steve, it's fine, I can hold my own stuff, alright?_ And Steve doesn't freeze but his brain does because it registers that this is the first time that Bucky has snapped at him. It feels not-so-good (very bad, unsettling, upsetting, makes his stomach roll) so he goes to the gym with every intent to run his heart out, and Sam laughs at him but runs with him anyways because Sam is a good wingman, and he can tell if Steve's upset even if Steve doesn't tell him exactly why. 

Maybe it's around this time that Steve starts scanning Bucky's appearance more thoroughly, not in an attracted way but more clinically- quick sweeps of his gaze; Bucky's hair is not too messy, he walks smoothly, but the cold weather that precedes true spring means that Bucky is always clothed from head to toe. 

Steve knows its probably invasive to an extent, but he does it anyways, semi-consciously or consciously checking to see if there are any visible blemishes to Bucky's body, looks straight into Bucky's eyes when Bucky apologizes for his rude behavior (when he snapped at Steve, _I'm so sorry, Steve, I had a long day and I shouldn't have lost my cool_ -) and asks if he's okay.

"I'm fine," Bucky says. A curious head-tilt. "Why?"

"Nothing," Steve is quick to answer. 

That's that.

\---

But, Steve's mind won't shut up, _that is not that that is not that that is not that-_

And it's weeks later, it's suddenly the end of April and there are no more showers, not really and Steve misses that and it occurs to him that maybe he misses everything that passes. 

Incidentally, there is one day when the forecast promises sunny, cloudless skies- but the heavens decide _FUck YoU, I dO wHat I wANT_ and the pouring raindrops sound like bullets off the window. 

Steve is zipped up in a weatherproof hoodie when he steps out the door at six, but it seems that Bucky is very much worse for wear. 

"I didn't bring an umbrella," Bucky laughs, rain dripping off his hair and his face, clothes soaked and _Those papers aren't going to be graded until they're dry_ , Steve thinks.

"Nice," Steve grins, "Looks like bad luck. Actually you look like a stray dog."

"Thanks," Bucky pouts and rolls his eyes, wipes at his face when the remaining raindrops (there are many) drip too close to his eyes. "I hope I pulled it off."

"Of course you did, that look is-" Steve. Stops. 

He doesn't gasp, at least he doesn't think so, but there is no air entering his lungs anyhow.

Bucky's eyes widen- fear.

Steve can't stop staring at the beginnings of ugly purple on Bucky's cheekbone- just a faint swipe of it, where Bucky's jacket sleeve took off the concealer, he stares and he stares and he stares-

"Shit." Bucky swears violently again, _"Shit._ "

"Bucky-" Steve can't stop from reaching for Bucky's arm as he backs away.

" _No_ -" a sharp arm gesture, "Don't. Just- _don't._ " Steve is probably gaping now, but Bucky snarls at him in abject rejection, slamming his keys into the door. "Mind your own damn business, okay, Steve? I'm fine- _I'm fine_." 

The door slams in Steve's face.

That is that.

\---

Maybe it's Steve's imagination but _that_ gets worse from there. He can no longer look Brock in the eye when they see each other in the mornings, and he can't bring himself to buy Brock coffee either.

Maybe Brock feels it. 

Steve starts leaving half an hour earlier so he doesn't have to ride the elevator in cold silence, or raging fury, on his end. 

But he doesn't stop going to the gym around six though, just out of his extensive worry.

Yet Bucky doesn't make eye contact either. His voice is quiet when he says hi, if he says hi. Steve still helps him carry some stuff, until mid-May, when Bucky tells him in a flat (neutral, no inflection whatsoever, numb) that he really doesn't need help and anyways, _Brock doesn't like it._

_Brock doesn't like it._

Steve stops carrying Bucky's stuff. He can't have Bucky being hurt on his behalf.

\---

June.

Steve feels sick to his stomach when he sees Bucky, when he hears things go _bump_ in the night- not even _bump_ , but _shatter_ , _crash, I swear to God, Bucky, Bucky this is the last time I'm going to tell you_ \- Steve curses these walls that are not thick enough, then curses himself for wishing to be blind and deaf to this problem-

\---

July.

Fourth of July fireworks end late, and Steve spends the night with Tony, Sam, Natasha, and Clint. (Bruce is in Brazil at the moment, Thor has a date with Jane, Scott is spending the night with his lil Peanut and though he'd love to bring her, somehow he thinks that all of them are planning to get somewhat drunk and his lil Peanut is seven so, sorry, Cap.). As predicted, Steve gets home feeling moderately buzzed, not enough to slur, but there's a surreal sense to everything. 

There's definitely a surreal sense surrounding the noises he hears when he drops into his bed, and it's not even that it's screaming or stuff breaking, but Steve can't stand the sound of angry sex (they've never been this loud, not ever, not when Steve was up, he-), no thank you, can't imagine what the other adjacent room is thinking, but then he remembers that old Aunt May can barely hear with her aids in.

So. 

Steve hurtles off his own bed into the restroom. Spends the next half hour heaving into the toilet bowl, feverishly resting his head on the toilet seat, shaking fingers carding through his hair between every surge of nausea.

The next morning, Steve's stomach is a gaping void of some twisted anxiety and anger. There's a bakery that he frequents, only a five minute walk, and he knows it'll help him feel better. Steve opens his door to see Bucky standing by his own door, phone held to his ear. 

Silence.

Bucky's eyes are red-rimmed, but he slams his phone back into his pocket and re-enters his room without a word.

\---

August.

Steve finally brings himself to search up domestic violence.

It hurts, so much, he sees his mom's face, he see's Bucky's face, he can't-

He exits the tab, erases his history, erases his history again, calls Tony so they can go out for a drink. 

\---

September.

Steve reads one article. One. The list of psychological effects resulting from domestic violence has Steve shutting his eyes. Breathing slowly.

Nope, the tab is also deleted, goodbye.

\---

October.

On Halloween, all the children in the apartment run through the halls in their costumes, bright orange jack-o-lantern baskets held out eagerly.

Steve bought a huge (enormous, giagantic, giant-ass) bag of candy just for this occasion and he loves standing by his door, listening to the shrieks of children rushing past, opening the door right when they stop in front of it, screaming " _BOO_ " and their screams are ones of laughter. 

Later in the night, the flow of children has lessened considerably and Steve takes to dumping handfuls of candy in their baskets, just so he can finish the bag. There is a slower pace, and then he opens his door and this time notices that Bucky is also leaning by his own doorway, chocolate bars in hand. 

Eye contact.

Bucky looks so tired (exhausted, run-down, dead-on-his-feet), but he smiles. Attempts to, like he's saying _I'm fine_. Steve falters, dropping only one candy in the basket of a little boy dressed as Batman, by accident, then dumps another handful just in compensation. The boy gives him a toothy-grinned thank you, then scrambles off. 

Bucky's door is closed again.

\---

November. 

Thanksgiving is notable because Steve invites everyone over for the first time- usually, they have Thanksgiving at Tony's flat, but they like to change things up. Dinner is loud and very agreeable (warm, companiable, Natasha only threatens to put Tony in a chokehold _once_ ), and almost all of the crew are there because, okay, it's technically Thanksgiving Eve.

Later, with Tony and Thor both snoring on his small couch, Steve hears yelling again. It's maybe Bucky this time. Maybe he hears faltering, like maybe Bucky's crying. 

Not even fifteen minutes later, he knows that they're not screaming anymore, and whatever they're doing now isn't any of Steve's business. God, it shouldn't be.

Sam, who is sitting in front of the TV, sipping a beer leisurely with Clint (They're marathoning Harry Potter, of course) smirks and raises his eyebrows.

"They always this loud?" he laughs.

Steve tries to smile, but it doesn't really work. Sam shuts down too, worry clouding his features, but Steve just tells him to enjoy the movies because he's going to go to sleep. 

Or try to.

\---

December.

Steve has missed this, the Christmas music and the hint of snow, the good-ness that he feels. 

But sometimes he doesn't feel so good. Sometimes he feels like absolute shit, when something breaks on the other side of the wall, when they're fighting again, when Steve is two seconds from calling 911 but he remembers Bucky telling him to _mind his own business_ , eyes on fire and daring Steve to intrude.

He doesn't know how he lives with himself. 

Christmas Eve is spent by himself, just because Tony's big (festive, extravagant, over-the-top) Christmas Party is on Christmas, not any day other than that, no sir. 

Steve pops Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer into the DVD player, (his favorite Christmas movie, of course) and makes himself hot chocolate. He wraps himself in the thickest blanket he has and watches the story play out onscreen (stop-motion is good shit)- Rudolph is constantly ridiculed but then he gets his recognition in the end and-

The knocking of his door is sudden. Frantic. Desperate.

Bucky almost falls in when Steve opens the door and it only takes two seconds for Steve to assess the whole situation, assess the tears, the shaking, the sharp pink on Bucky's face like a handprint.

"You- You can't let him in, I can't do this-" Shuddering breaths and Bucky's behind Steve now, "I can't- I'm _so sorry_ , Steve, I'm sorry-"

Rumlow storms out of their room, red in the face and Steve slams the door on him without another thought. 

"Bucky, what _the fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Not so much a yell as a sharp reprimand through the door. 

Bucky's on the floor now, shaking even harder and incoherent through his sobs.

"Brock." Steve makes himself heard through the door. " _Stop._ "

"Steve, man, come on. This is between Bucky and me, get outta the way-"

"No," Steve can be sharp too. He's resolute in locking his door. "Don't even try."

"Bucky-" There's a loud thud as Brock pounds on the door, "-Open the door!"

Steve starts when he feels fingers wrap around his ankle, Bucky is kneeling there, shuddering, slamming at the ground with his hand- like he can't even say what he wants-

"He's not opening anything and you're not getting in here, Brock," Steve has a hard time keeping his voice even. Actually, he really wants to throw the door open and fight the son-of-a-bitch, but Bucky's got a death grip on his ankle and there's no way Steve will leave him alone, not like this.

"Bucky!" Brock softens, " _Baby, please-_ "

"P-please, no- God-" Choking on his words, Bucky starts- to Steve's absolute horror- hitting his head on the floor, "Please- Brock-"

Steve braces his back to the door and slides down, grabbing Bucky's shoulder in panic, "Bucky! Stop- don't hurt-"

"I can't," Bucky cries, "I can't I _can't I can't-_ " 

"Bucky! Goddammit, babe, you know I didn't mean it, you know _I love you_ -"

"Shut the fuck up!" Bucky is screaming, lunging over Steve's shoulder, punching the door, " _Stop fucking lying to me!_ "

Steve can't even say anything, he just takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Bucky and pull him down from the door- Bucky struggles, screaming his anger at the door but Steve is finally able to settle them so Bucky isn't in any state to hurt himself any more, he just shakes and shakes, face in the front of Steve's sweater.

"I'm sorry, okay! Bucky, open the door- open the fucking door so I can apologize, I love you, I wouldn't be able to live without you-"

There's a muffled cry into Steve's sweater, Bucky's arms are around him now, squeezing like there's no other way he can live, Steve is rocking back and forth, _shhhhhhh, Bucky, it's okay, he can't get in, I won't let him in-_

"Let me in! Bucky, how could you do this? Don't run and hide now, with some guy you don't even know- Baby, what's that going to accomplish?" 

Steve can hear the sweet-talk waning, every time Brock calls Bucky "baby" the words afterwards get harder and harder-

"You know I love you, you know I'm sorry- why can't you just accept that, Bucky? Why can't you just know that I love you and that's enough? You said that, _you said_ -" The door shakes when Brock rams at it.

"You ungrateful _bitch_ , I swear to fucking God, if you don't come out _right fuckin' now_ -"

Bucky shakes his head frantically, "No- _no-no no-_ "

"Brock!" Steve yells it this time, no use to even try lowering his voice, "If you don't leave, I'm calling the police-"

"Then fucking call them then, Bucky won't let you-"

Bucky pounds a hand into Steve's shoulder, face hidden but it's the last straw because Steve doesn't even know how he's getting enough oxygen, he's crying so hard.

The phone's in his hand in no time, the operator asks what's the emergency- Bucky's tears are soaking his front, Bucky's nails in his forearm are going to leave marks-

"Okay then, Bucky, run off and hide with some other big guy, hide behind him, it's not like you can do anything else, isn't that right, _baby_? Always gonna need some hot muscle to back you up, make you feel a little better about yourself-"

Steve has to rub Bucky's back soothingly if only in an effort to restrain himself. Every word out of Brock's mouth gets nastier and Steve's really itching to get a couple punches- but then again that would probably freak Bucky out more- "Bucky, that's not true, you did the right thing, it's going to be fine-"

Bucky is shaking his head again. He doesn't think it's going to be fine.

"-What is it then, Bucky? What? I couldn't satisfy you or something? _What_ , is my dick not big enough for you-"

Oh, God, Steve really, really wishes he could shut the fucker up with a fist in the face. He holds Bucky tighter, tells him that nothing Brock says is true, _no he is not a whore, not a bitch, not worthless-_

"This is a fucking waste of my time, you know that? What if I just up and left your sorry ass forever, Bucky? Huh?" Brock slams the door and Bucky jumps in Steve's arms.

Hell continues for an eternity (only five minutes before the cops arrive) and Steve sits there the whole time, ignoring the cramping in his leg as Bucky digs his fingers into Steve's sweater, really, really cries- apologizes a million times and says that he can't a million times more than that- so Steve wraps his arms around Bucky in the largest hug he can manage without constricting him, trying to convince him of the opposite.

\---One Year Later---

"Merry Christmas, Stevie," Bucky is sprawled on top of Steve, on Steve's couch. Steve shifts, turning the page of his book with one finger, skillfully (adeptly, smoothly, miraculously). 

"Merry Christmas to you too," Steve laughs as Bucky attempts drinking hot chocolate from his horizontal position. Not to mention that it's the fifth time he's told Steve Merry Christmas in the last hour. (It's not even Christmas yet, not technically, Steve is not complaining)

Bucky sighs happily and settles his head into the crook of Steve's neck. "Steve."

"Yeah?" Steve settles his fingers into Bucky's hair. 

"You know, I like you a lot, right?"

Steve lowers his book to look at Bucky, which is hard because Bucky's face is hidden in his neck, oops.

'Yeah, course I do," Steve knows that of all things "I love you" is hard for Bucky to say, and he gets it. Technically, their relationship is only two months old, though it feels longer than that; they'd been edging toward this, but now everything is starting to settle into place. (Some people gave Bucky shit for falling into another relationship so soon, but Steve is just glad Bucky is safe, and thinks maybe they should think about that instead.)

They've talked about Bucky moving in (Steve was worried that would bring back bad memories but Bucky was adamant that it was fine. Well, Steve was thinking about moving out anyways, Tony knew a place, but Steve was waiting for New Years for that particular surprise.)

"Okay, just wanted to make sure you know," Bucky lets out another huff of breath, his happy (content, satisfied, fulfilled) sigh- Steve has become accustomed to it and nothing makes him feel warmer.

"Well, I like you a lot too, Buck," Steve smiles and decides that he's read enough of _The Martian_ for the day. Folding a page (oops) he puts the book down by the side of the couch and wraps his arm around Bucky's shoulders. Presses a kiss to his head. 

"Hmm..." Bucky is soft in contemplation, "I kinda want a candy cane right now."

"You're kidding," Steve laughs, "You're gonna make me walk all the way to the Christmas tree to get you one?"

"Maybe?" 

"You got it," Of course Steve would never deny Bucky that. He excavates himself from their warm (cozy, comfortable, heavenly) blankets, pads quickly to the tree, plucks a candy cane off it, and pads quickly back. 

He tucks the blankets around them securely again, maybe purposely pressing his newly cold feet into Bucky's calves, which makes Bucky let out half a shriek, and unwraps the candy cane for Bucky. "Here you go, jerk."

"Punk," Bucky says fondly. There is no antagonistic basis for the words, only a lot of soft feelings, though Steve has yet to call Bucky "baby" for _reasons._

Steve's fingers meander their way back into Bucky's hair, letting him relax into the warmth and the touch. The multi-colored Christmas lights on the tree paint the living room gently, and Christmas music plays softly from the radio.

Later, they watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer together, because of course, how could Steve deal without his favorite Christmas movie of all time? Bucky admits that he's only seen it once, maybe, but he makes up for it by paying attention to the whole movie, winding their fingers together when Rudolph gets bullied, and Steve thinks, _wow, he remembers what I told him about bullies._

Steve thinks, _wow, I like him a lot._

Steve thinks, _wow, I'm never watching this movie without him._

Steve thinks a lot of things, but he _knows_ that he will never allow Bucky to be hurt ever again, and _that's that._


End file.
